We All Fall
by ThereOnceGoneNow
Summary: Hermione Granger has noticed that Snape has been arriving injured late at night more and more frequently. Worried that he won't survive much longer, Hermione takes matters into her own hands and comes before the Dark Lord with a request of her own... HG/SS Possible eventual HP/DM
1. Chapter One

Hello lovely readers! I haven't done this for such a long time and I'm a bit rusty! I'm not entirely happy with how this chapter turned out, but please leave reviews if you would like to see more : )

Chapter One

These days the solid darkness of a late Friday night and early Saturday morning always found Hermione awake, wand drawn and waiting. It was always the same place, tucked into a cramped space between a group of solid trees and shrubbery at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. This was not a place that was visited by anyone but herself and it was hardly the place she wished to spend her nights, but the war had forced her hand.

Muttering quiet expletives that no-one would expect from the studious sixth-year, Hermione swept her wand briskly over the area surrounding her, removing her magical signature from the area. There had to be nothing to sense here just as there was nothing to see due to the powerful disillusionment charm placed over Hermione's body. To anyone else, this was just a cold section of trees against a freezing dark forest. She shivered as she drew her robe closer to her body.

He was late tonight and that was never a good sign. In Hermione's experience, the later he returned, the more worse it was. It was the observation of many nights spent under her clump of trees, so far undiscovered. Hermione laughed quietly to herself: She had better stay undiscovered, or he'd most certainly kill her for this. She huffed a breath into her hands, she'd forgotten her gloves tonight. That was nothing though, nothing compared to the way he staggered through the gates – the cold was nothing compared to the way his robes clung to him, dark with the sweet, coppery smell of blood. No, the cold was nothing.

With that thought, the faint tingle of magic caused the hairs on the back of Hermione's neck to stand on end. Sure enough, the sharp crack of apparition sounded through the air moments later and a bloody figure appeared just outside the Hogwarts gates. The man didn't land on his feet and Hermione knew enough to know that this was a bad sign. For a moment the figure didn't move at all and Hermione feared that she would have to breach the wards and retrieve him herself, but then he stirred, dragging himself wearily along the ground towards the gates. He could hardly even crawl, drawing up on his hands and knees and then falling back to the ground every so often, but Hermione knew it wasn't safe to leave the confines of her hideout while he was conscious. He could never, ever know that she waited here: There was a reason why she removed all traces of her magical signature from where she hid.

It seemed like forever before the dark figure reached the gates and laid a shaking hand on the wrought iron. The gates glowed under his touch and opened just far enough to allow entrance. Hermione watched as he dragged himself just within the boundaries and collapsed once more and this time stilled. She watched with a critical eye for a whole minute, her impeccable self-control put to the test as she resisted the urge to approach him straight away, something she had never needed to do before. He always managed to get to the castle and walk through these gates no matter how badly he was hurt. The smell of blood grew stronger and stronger as she waited, and she fidgeted slightly, knowing that this was bad – worse than she'd seen from him before.

It soon became clear that he wouldn't rise and reluctantly Hermione knew that tonight she would need to act. From her patch of darkness she sent a potent stunner through the air towards him; there was no way she could risk him being conscious for what she needed to do next. In an instant she was at his side, silently and disillusioned, pressing her hand to his pale wrist to find his pulse. For a brief moment she felt nothing and held her breath. Then she felt it; a weak pulse. She would need to work quickly. It was obvious that he had lost a large amount of blood.

Silently Hermione let her wand glide along his body, casting diagnostics. As her wand passed over, it left a glowing blue in the line of his veins. Gods above, he was bleeding everywhere. The glow that indicated his blood flow through his veins had leaked in large patches over his stomach and down lower to areas Hermione didn't even want to think about, showing the tragic types of abuse that he had endured this night. He was bleeding internally so badly that Hermione was forced to double her efforts, frantically casting diagnostics with her wand hand with her other hand resting lightly over the brightest patches, murmuring healing spells to reduce the bleeding.

It was a talent that no-one knew Hermione possessed, an old skill that she had learned from an ancient book. It was a branch of magic largely disused due to the elevated level of elemental magic required, which most witches and wizards had no idea how to harness in modern times. She was grateful for it now, a bitter laugh forming in her mind as she thought of how everyone who knew her scorned her avid reading habits.

The blue of the internal bleeding was receding slowly as Hermione harnessed the power of the earth into her healing spell. Finally, with the internal bleeding stemmed, she passed her wand over his body again, dismayed at the amount of red light that now showed, indicating the damage to his bones. 'At least bones are easy enough,' Hermione thought with a hint of sarcasm, healing each bone systematically before reaching into her robe and drawing out a bundle of potions.

It took four blood replenishing potions, then two potions to heal his organs and one to induce sleep before she was satisfied with his blood levels and was able to lift the stunning spell. One last flick of her wand removed his outer robes so that she could heal his wounds. Placing both of her hands onto his shoulders, she allowed the power of the air to flow through her fingertips and powerfully disillusion him. Finally, she rose from her knees and siphoned the blood from both of their robes, casting cleaning and warming charms over his skin before carefully levitating him and heading for the castle.

Hermione didn't head for the front doors of the castle, but rather around the side of the castle where she had watched Snape enter the castle through a secret passageway every time he returned. She placed both hands lightly against the cold stone and concentrated on communicating with the castle, which was so much more sentient than people realised. _'Open please: Professor Snape's Quarters.'_

The cold stone morphed into an archway and Hermione silently thanked the castle with a brush of her hand on her way through, the stone glowing warmly beneath her touch. The wall sealed behind them and she walked into the short hallway that led to Professor Snape's office. As she reached the door, it swung open, the castle disabling the wards as it read Hermione's intentions. Through his office she reached the door to his quarters which yielded easily under her touch.

She spared no glance towards the details of his rooms, unwilling to invade his privacy any more than she had to and carefully positioned her professor onto his bed. One flick of her wand and his robes were neatly folded on the armchair in the corner of the room. Finally allowing herself to breathe, Hermione looked at the figure laying in the bed, pale and motionless.

She had made it. Professor Snape was safe.

...

He awoke with a start the next day, somehow instantly aware that it was later than he normally slept and disoriented at his lack of memory of how he got to bed. There had been a revel hadn't there? He remembered pain, blood and more pain. Yes, there had been a revel, but how had he ended up here? His last memory was of the Hogwarts gates closing behind him and he never forgot anything.

This whole thing stunk of Albus Bloody Dumbledore.

The meddling old fool must have brought him here somehow and he fully intended to give him a piece of his mind. He was fiercely independent. Surely he could have made it here himself without the old codger sticking his nose in places it didn't belong. In any case, it's not like Dumbledore even cared: He had a long history of ignoring what he forced Severus through. The only consolation was the knowledge that his wards would certainly have put a damper on Dumbledore's night. No-one but himself entered these rooms without suffering the consequences.

He rolled over in a swift motion, and then stopped. There was something wrong with this, he thought. Shouldn't he be unable to move? Last night had been particularly bad and he remembered it clearly and winced. He frowned as his mind raced over what could have happened. He should be in pain, even if someone had healed him. No healing spells he'd ever encountered could completely take the ache away, especially the cruciatis curse, which he remembered being under for long enough to incapacitate him for days.

Dumbledore was a powerful wizard with many talents, but none of them lay in healing. Severus knew this personally. One time, Dumbledore had attempted to heal the most minor of his injuries and ended up making it even worse. So who? Who did bloody Dumbledore force to heal his wounds? This had never been part of the deal dammit.

In one more moment he was upright and stalking towards his fireplace with long agitated strides. He threw a pinch of floo powder. "Albus Sodding Dumbledore," he spat venomously into the flames as he stuck his head in the fire.

"Severus, my dear boy! To what do I owe this pleasure?" Dumbledore said cheerfully as the floo connection opened.

Severus sneered at Dumbledore, fixing him with his most potent glare, "Don't fuck with me Albus. What happened last night?"

A look of sheer confusion passed quickly over Dumbledore's face before he smoothed his expression into something more manageable, "I am afraid I have no idea what you.."

"Albus, you will tell me right this minute what you have done or I swear I won't be held accountable for what I do next," Severus threatened, baring his teeth and almost growling the words.

The benign look on Dumbledore's face softened before he answered, "Severus, I am not sure what you mean. I went to bed yesterday evening and I awoke this morning. Nothing has happened, I assure you."

"You lie Albus. I know you brought me to my quarters last night and I know I was healed by someone with some talent for healing. You will tell me what you have done!" Snape shouted through the flames.

"Severus," Dumbledore said seriously, "I am telling the absolute truth when I say that I had nothing to do with this. You must have forgotten."

Snape laughed bitterly. "I do NOT forget Albus. I have never forgotten." No, he would never forget the way Dumbledore dismissed and threatened him even as a young student laying in the hospital ward, terrified from a 'prank gone wrong'.

Dumbledore shook his head, "I do not have your answers my boy."

He could tell Dumbledore was attempting to look appropriately ashamed, but Severus could see straight through the weak attempt. No matter, there was an easy way to get his answers. "Show me your hands!" Severus spat, "I will get my truth."

Chuckling softly, Albus held out his hands. "What will this tell you Severus?" he said, "What truth do you perceive lies in my hands?"

But Snape was already shaking his head in disbelief and withdrawing from the fire. His wards should have burned Dumbledore's hands so severely that he would be rendered useless until Snape himself performed the counter curse. His wards were bitter and nasty to anyone who tried to enter uninvited, and there was only one counter curse of Snape's own devising.

Albus had not been in his rooms last night.

...

Please review if you liked it, or even if you didn't. Tell me what you'd like to see. Hermione didn't show a lot of her personality in this chapter, but we'll see more from her next chapter.


	2. Chapter Two

Thank you so much to those who reviewed and those who are now following this story! I try to reply to each one of you that leave reviews. This chapter is more of an introduction to Hermione – we will slowly start to see why she is watching Snape. Can anyone guess what she has planned?

 **Chapter Two**

Hermione was frustrated. Ron was getting on her last nerves with his nagging about her reading habits. He'd known her since their first year, surely he could have gathered by now that she liked to read? He was entirely too immature these days and she was beginning to wonder how they were ever going to make it through the war if the boys couldn't figure out they needed to grow up. Even now, Harry sat staring towards the head table, not even trying to disguise the fact that he was glaring at Professor Snape. She rolled her eyes; she had felt the growing distance between herself and the boys for some time now. Hermione was all too aware that there were horrific things in this world, even more than Harry thought there was. The notion that they were supposed to use love as their main weapon didn't sit well with her and hadn't for some time. It was exactly why she'd spent the last six months of her schooling reading in the library, ordering special books on obscure magic by owl post and practicing curses and mind and elemental magic in her free time. As far as the boys knew Hermione was studying and, in a way, she was. She wasn't studying how to vanish objects or brew potions though; she was reordering her mind, sinking memories deep within her psych and building brick walls around her emotions. She was learning to cast spells, charms and curses using the wind, the earth, fire and water. She was learning to kill and to maim. There was more to her than the boys were willing to see. Her mind was a fortress and she doubted anyone could see the things that haunted her, hidden as they were so deep within the recesses of her brain.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, "Are you alright?" He could see her eyes glittering, her face cold. It was a look he'd caught on her face more times than he'd like to admit since the start of the school year. She looked far away, dangerous almost. This wasn't the Hermione he was used to; the studious girl who chatted all the time and forced them to study. There was something different here and he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Yes Harry," Hermione answered, the serious expression replaced so quickly with her usual earnest and innocent look that Harry wondered if maybe he was imagining things. "I'm fine. Just tired, I stayed up last night studying the fundamentals of transfiguration. Did you know that Littman discovered in 1765…"

"Ok Hermione! Just checking. I don't really care about transfiguration." Harry hastily replied with a slight laugh. Yes, he must have been imagining things; Hermione was just the same as she always was. He turned his attention back to Snape. The surly man looked even worse than usual this morning and it couldn't be a good sign. He didn't trust him. Snape was up to something, and Harry could tell. Why Dumbledore kept him inside the school was still a complete mystery to Harry.

Hermione sighed and followed Harry's gaze to the staff table. Professor Snape looked terrible this morning. Hermione snorted in dark amusement, it was no wonder really, given his condition only two nights before. If only Harry would stop staring. Subtlety was lost on him, Hermione thought bitterly. At least he wasn't as hopeless as Ron.

Hermione felt the soft brushes of magic against her mind, rousing her from her thoughts. It seemed professor Snape had noticed the two of them staring and was using legilimency to find out why, as she had discovered he usually did with students. God knows how easily he would have read Harry's stupid suspicions, so unprotected was his mind, but Hermione had trained herself so well in the art of occlumency that all Snape would be reading from her was passing thoughts on how dry the toast was for breakfast that morning and whether she needed to start handing out study timetables yet, even though it was only early in the school year. Still, Hermione could have fun with this; if Professor Snape wanted to read the minds of those around him without invitation, he could deal with the consequences. She started to allow the French translation of Hogwarts: A history to run vertibam through the most outer layers of her mind. Let him read what he could from that.

Looking out from under her eyelashes, Hermione didn't miss the look of confusion and boredom that flitted across Professor Snape's face. Let him keep believing in my innocence, Hermione thought to herself. It was true, she needed those around her to believe that she was innocent, despite the events of her summer. No-one knew just what she had endured while they had thought she was with her parents. Harry complained endlessly about his holidays and the lack of contact with the magical world, but Hermione wished that she hadn't had any contact from the magical world. She could have remained blissfully unaware had the events of one dark night not changed absolutely everything.

Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts. It wouldn't do to ponder the recent events. She was here now, at Hogwarts and there were people here that had it even worse than she'd had. She wouldn't tell the boys, they weren't ready. They thought themselves mature and hard done by, but Hermione knew that they'd never understand the impact of things that she'd been through, the loss of her innocence, ripped from her unwillingly by figures in black. Her life had changed forever and she could never go back, no matter how much she wanted to.

Ron's voice pulled her attention from her summer. "Hermione, we're thinking of sneaking out tonight," Ron whispered. "Out to the quidditch pitch to do some flying. You should come."

Hermione frowned. When would the boys learn? How many people had to die before they realised that risking their lives and flaunting the rules was a terrible idea? She had thought that Sirius' death might be enough to mature Harry, but it appeared that she was wrong. It was this kind of stupidity that she couldn't stand, couldn't even pretend to condone.

"I would not do anything so stupid Ronald," She said coldly. "And you shouldn't even be thinking of it. Especially you Harry: When will you learn that nowhere is safe?" Her spoon fell to the table with a clatter as she hastily gathered her books and stood to leave. Glaring at Ron, she missed the look of shame that crossed Harry's face at her words and turned to leave.

What she didn't miss was Ron's response as she turned her back. "Geez Hermione, just bloody chill out would you!"

Hermione stiffened and then turned around slowly, her eyes hard and her expression stony. She drew her shoulders back as she sneered at Ron. Both boys drew back at the venom in her voice as she replied. "It's about time you grew up Ronald. I've had enough of your selfish and immature behaviour lately. Believe me, the last thing any of us need right now is to 'chill'."

As Hermione whipped back around and strode out of the hall with long strides, both boys were silent, jaws slack. They had no idea what had come over their bookish friend, especially over something as simple as a late-night flying session.

…

Hermione practically flew from the Great Hall. How dare the boys plan something so stupid? Didn't they understand by now that nowhere was safe anymore? These walls had once signified safety like no other, but Hermione wasn't convinced any longer. She didn't know how she ever had been. There had been so many instances that threats from the outside had gotten inside the school. Hadn't they only just gotten rid of Umbridge? What about Barty Crouch Junior and professor Quirrell? What about the basilisk and Voldemort's possession of a student in their second year? How she had ever felt safe here, she didn't know. She hadn't felt safe since death eaters had stormed her parent's home the past summer and ripped the trust from her forcefully. Every night she had nightmares in the few hours that she even managed sleep. Nowhere was safe anymore. Of course, she couldn't blame the boys for not knowing; no-one knew, not even the headmaster. She had fled to her safe place after watching her parents fall at the wands of others as they tried to protect her. She'd spent the rest of the summer creating a new life, a harder life. She'd taken care of business and quietly buried her parents, and then she had vanished until the time came to return to school. She'd learned a lot since then.

Entering the dormitories, Hermione fell onto her bed and warded the area around her strongly. Turning her wand on herself, she removed the glamours she always wore and conjured a mirror. She was thin, too thin from hardly ever eating; her appetite had died with her parents and had not come back. She slept so little that her eyes were black and her face gaunt. He hair hung limply, spilling halfway down her back. Her lips were dry and cracked, a result of chewing her lips until they bled.

Looking critically at herself, she began to apply the charms that would change her features. She changed the shape of her nose, the colour of her hair and eyes and the complexion of her skin. Where she had been pale, she was now golden and tanned. Where her eyes had been a deep chocolate brown, they were now an icy blue. Where her hair had been a mess of light brown curls, it was now a silver blond that fell pin straight towards the floor. She was unrecognisable, even to herself. She had been practicing these charms until they were undetectable, as part of her as her usual features. It was all part of the plan.

She stared critically into the mirror. If this was going to work, there had to be no sign of Hermione Granger. She had to become someone else entirely. This disguise had to be as natural to her as breathing: It would need to hold up under the worst torture and the greatest pleasure. She delved into her own mind, bringing forth the memories she had been working on since her parents had died. She needed memories that involved this disguise. She needed even the most skilled legilimens to look at these memories and not pick up a shred of Hermione Granger. This was the disguise she used in the muggle world. It was the face that appeared on all her documentation, which was heavily warded at the bottom of her trunk. This was who she had become to survive.

Slowly, she turned from the mirror and began to change back to the Hermione those around her knew, plus glamours to hide her tired and malnourished state. It was time for class.

…

Snape stared suspiciously at the bench where Hermione Granger sat by herself. Normally in potions, she was sat with Potter and Weasley. He had seen her storm out of the hall at breakfast and was not surprised. He didn't know how on earth she put up with the imbeciles she called friends. There was something more to this though, he thought. She looked different, and yet she looked completely the same. His attempts to skim her mind were unsuccessful. For a girl whom everyone boasted was so smart, she always seemed to have so little flowing through her mind. Where her friends wore their every thought so clearly on their face, she was never thinking much at all and her face showed even less than her mind. For the first time he began to wonder what he would find if he pushed deeper into her mind. She wouldn't notice. None of the idiots in Gryffindor ever thought to learn to occlude. It was second nature to his Slytherins, who learned from an early age not to leave anything unprotected. He could always tell though, it was obvious when the inexperienced had put up barriers in their mind, and it still didn't take much to push through. At least they tried.

Realising that he had spent more than a moment staring at Miss Granger, he tore his eyes away and sneered towards the rest of the class, tapping the blackboard with his wand so that instructions appeared.

"I see that some of you think that you can work alone," he started. "However, you will need to pair up. Miss Granger, I believe you might find it beneficial to work with a superior mind and therefore, today you will be working with Mr Malfoy."

The look on Draco's face, he noted, was pure disgust. The look on Miss Granger's face didn't change. She just looked Professor Snape in the eye and gathered her things, standing and gracefully walking over to the bench that Malfoy sat at and pulled up a chair. Malfoy scooted his chair away from her and gave her a dirty look, clearly displaying his contempt at the situation. Potter and Weasley looked as though they wanted to fight someone. They always had been easy to anger. The fools had never learned any self-control. Still, he was surprised at the lack of reaction from Miss Granger. He had expected something from her at least, and not for the first time today, he was tempted to delve deep into her mind and find out what she really thought.

…

"Watch it Granger," Malfoy spat in Hermione's direction as she prepared the first ingredient for the potion they were brewing today. "You almost touched me."

Hermione sighed impatiently. She had no time for pointless arguments "As if I would want to touch you Malfoy."

"You should feel privileged to even sit anywhere near me Granger," Malfoy retorted. "I don't need your mudblood germs all over me."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione continued to slice her frog liver into equal sized pieces and chose not to reply. She could see Malfoy giving her sideways glances, perplexed as to why he wasn't getting a rise out of her. There were more important things to her than a petty schoolboy grudge, she thought to herself. Still, Harry and Ron were looking incensed at the table to her right. It was important to play the part of Hermione Granger, innocent schoolgirl. It wouldn't do to make anyone suspicious this close to enacting her plans.

"Don't you know that Muggleborns are the future, Malfoy?" She replied.

"You wish Granger. Just wait, your kind will be in your rightful place soon enough," Malfoy retorted. "How do you like the view from the ground at a purebloods feet?"

"About as much as you like to suck your way up your father's ass," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. Really, she thought, were all boys the bloody same? Why did everyone around her seem to focus on being absolutely immature when there was so much at stake?

"You'll regret that Granger," Malfoy snarled. "Don't you dare talk about my father."

It looked like Malfoy was a bit sore about the fact that his father had found himself in prison. Oh well, Hermione thought. That's what you get. She didn't bother to reply.

Malfoy was silent from then on, wrenching his robes from his side where she was sat and pushing his chair even further away. It didn't go unnoticed by Harry and Ron, who looked like they had softened a bit towards her at her obvious reluctance to work with Malfoy. Even though they couldn't hear the interaction between the two, they seemed finally reassured that Hermione was still on their side.

…

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and took a deep breath. Another day done, he thought to himself. Despite being Monday, he was still worried by the events of the weekend and the fact that he still didn't remember how he had come to arrive at his rooms after the most recent revel, and healed no less, when he should have been lying dead at the Hogwarts gates. There was nothing he could do though, he didn't even know where to start his investigation.

And there were more pressing worries. The Dark Lord was getting worse every time he called Severus to his side. Severus worried that he was becoming even more unstable, violent and demanding. Punishments were more frequent, and he was much harder to please. Something had to change. There was no way his body could go on this way indefinitely. But what could he do? He could hardly just stop responding to the Dark Lord. Maybe he deserved this, for everything he had done in the past. He already knew that he was worthless to everyone else and expendable to the Dark Lord. What else was there for him to live for or to do? And what else could he do but spy? He had to make his pitiful existence count for something, even though there was no way he could ever atone for his sins. No, he resolved, he would spy until the Dark lord killed him, and it might not be far off.

He sighed and pulled a stack of essays towards himself for grading. Sixth years, he thought. The sixth years were the bane of his existence, Potter's class especially and his temper was always worse with them. Despite his temper causing him to make the unlikely partnering in class today, Miss Granger had surprisingly fared well with Malfoy. He hadn't paid attention to their bickering, but it seemed that Granger had been able to silence Malfoy rather quickly, and in the end, they had produced a flawless potion.

He groaned as he realised that Miss Grangers essay was on the very top of the pile. At least she had stopped writing way more than he had asked. Thank Merlin for small mercies. In fact, as he read through her essay on the speculated uses of dragons' blood in healing potions, he had to wonder why. She was writing in a normal sized font for once, giving him the exact number of inches that he asked for. She was no longer quoting the textbook, but succinctly providing information that surprised even him. Her knowledge had increased, but it appeared that she had stopped working quite as hard.

It had been this way from the start of the year. She was different, though he couldn't quite say how or why. He had no idea what had happened to the girl, or whether he was imagining it, but something seemed almost wrong. She waited longer before raising her hand in class, to the point that he had almost had to call on her a few times for answers. Oh she always had it right, and her knowledge was never lacking, but she wasn't as eager to please and it both greatly relieved him and slightly worried him.

Shaking his head, he cleared his thoughts of Granger. She seemed to be invading his mind more often than he cared to admit. Still, something was amiss here, and he was determined to find out exactly what it was.

…

And there we go; the second chapter is done! I was inspired by the reviews that were left which is why I have updated so quickly! Please leave reviews to fuel my writing : ) Tell me, how do you prefer Ron? In this story he is leaning towards being very irritating and immature and there may be some Ron-bashing yet to come, should he be redeemed eventually? Let me know in your reviews!


	3. Chapter Three

Hello my lovely readers! Thank you for reviewing and for reading and adding this tory to you alerts and favourites. In this chapter we get to see Hermione having some fun and we also see some of her planning. I'm still not quite happy with it, and I would prefer longer chapters, but we have a lot to set up at the beginning of this story!

Enjoy and review if you like it.

…

"Hermione wait!" Hermione heard harry call from behind her as she made her way through the portrait hole towards the Great Hall. She hoisted her bag up higher on her shoulder and turned around, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"What's wrong Harry?" Hermione asked wearily. She wasn't quite sure what to expect after their argument at breakfast the previous morning.

"It's just…" Harry trailed off looking discouraged by her lack of cheer. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. Ron mentioned going to the pitch in passing and I just kind of agreed. I've told him I don't want to go out after curfew anymore."

Hermione's face softened. Sometimes she had to remind herself that Harry was just a boy. She supposed she had been a little harsh on him and Ron. She had just found herself with a much shorter temper and a lot less tolerance since the events of her summer, and it wasn't like she could blame Harry or Ron. Neither of them even knew what had happened. Hermione had known that this would be a result of keeping quiet about it – about what had happened to her.

"It's ok Harry." Hermione watched as a small smile graced Harry's face. It was only then that she'd realised how little she'd seen him smile lately. It was all the more reason to put her plans into action sooner, rather than later. "No really. It's alright. I'm sorry too. I guess the stress is just getting to me. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"It's alright Hermione," Harry replied, looking more at ease. "Are you ok though? You've seemed… distant lately. Almost sad?"

Hermione smiled at him and walked over to him and raised a hand to give his shoulder a squeeze. "I'm fine Harry," she assured him. "But thank you for asking."

Harry smiled a little, the expression on his face still torn between relief and sadness. He didn't fully believe her, but that was alright. He'd understand in the end. _Unless he didn't_ , Hermione worried to herself. Shaking her head, she offered Harry a bright smile and shifted her weight back towards the portrait hole; she'd cross that bridge when it came to it.

"Want to come to breakfast Harry?" Hermione asked him. "Ron can meet us there."

"Yeah," Harry replied, picking his bag up off the floor and swinging it over one shoulder. "Let's go." He passed Hermione and held the portrait open for her as she climbed out and changed the tone of the conversation.

"I have a question about Divination…" He asked with a grin, deliberately lightening the mood with a subject that Hermione considered less than ideal.

"I couldn't care less about the subject and I'd rather suck on a baboon's ass than talk about Trelawney," Hermione laughed. Harry dodged her playful punch and started to jog backwards away from her as she laid chase.

This was the Hermione he remembered.

…

Her free period after lunch always went the same way these days. She'd find herself in the Room of Requirement practicing. She didn't always practice the same thing. Sometimes it was occlumency or duelling. Sometimes she asked the room to form a lab, so she could practice brewing potions that actually challenged her. Sometimes, like today, the room resembled the outside world; a rugged and wild terrain that provided all of the elements for her to manipulate. There were piles of earth – dirt and rocks – and a flowing stream. There was a gentle breeze and there were plenty of wooded areas, dry sticks and trees that would easily catch fire. This was Hermione's favourite use for the room. She loved the feeling of being one with the earth, even though she was technically inside. She'd lay down her wand and channel the magic through her hands, her feet and her eyes. It felt so natural to her, calming even.

Hermione was best with the element of the earth. She could make the dirt and rocks do things that surprised even her. She could _request_ things of them and it was the weirdest sensation. Flicking her eyes towards the mound of dirt in front of the trees, Hermione managed to cause a minor dust storm as she stirred the earth in the air. Almost instantly there was a cloud of earth waiting for her to manipulate.

Smiling, Hermione twisted her hands and focused her considerable will power and watched as the cloud of dust took shape, forming a large cat – a panther that was breathtaking in its sheer size and detail. Hermione's eyes sparkled as she grinned, her mind reaching out like hands on clay to shape and mould the large cat into even greater detail. She let out a peal of laughter as the panther in front of her yawned and turned, the heavy earth somehow graceful in the way it was yielded.

With a quick flick of her hand, the panther leapt, and the earth disbanded with astonishing speed towards the forest. The sound of the soil hitting the trees produced a sound like gunshots, so fierce was the power it was flung with. Turning, she raised her hand to the running stream, the water twisting and turning as it rose in a fountain towards the sky. With another flick of her hand, the water followed the path the earth had taken towards the trees in a graceful arc.

As the wind whipped around Hermione, she crouched onto all fours and then propelled herself across the small clearing to take cover behind a large pile of granite. As it usually did after it had sensed her warmup, the room began to produce spellwork, throwing jets of red light – temporary stunners, as Hermione had learned the hard way – towards the granite pile.

Ducking and rolling as the rocks at her back splintered, she cleared the small field in less than a second. Spells caused the earth to fracture at her heels as she flew across the ground. Once upon a time, she hadn't been this quick, but the Room of Requirement had taught her the value of moving quickly. Without turning, she let a hand trail behind her, conjuring the granite she had hidden behind to form a shield at her side. She was forced to drop and roll however when the room began to direct spells at her from a different direction. Releasing the rocks, she focused hard on the air surrounding her. The air began to blow a gale around her, confusing the direction of the stunners that were aimed for her. They bounced of her hurricane shield, but she caught the edges of the blows; she hadn't quite mastered these shields yet. Dropping them quickly, she raced towards the trees, leaving fire in her wake.

She had almost reached the wooden tree line at the edge of the clearing when she felt it, one of the stunners had reached her and hit her directly from behind. She had just enough time to curse as she felt it take hold, before she was knocked out on the grassy floor.

"Well fuck."

…

The green tinge of the Slytherin Common Room was irritating Hermione. How did any of the Slytherins manage to study with this light in the corner of their eyes? She had been standing here for over an hour now, waiting for Malfoy to return from wherever he had disappeared to with Parkinson. Hermione rolled her eyes. How had it come to her standing in the Slytherin common room for hours each night, disillusioned and silent?

There were three first years playing gobstones in the corner, six fourth years trading chocolate frog cards at a table, a few fifths years passing around something that looked suspiciously like it came from Fed and George Weasley. Many students sat alone, scattered around the room, studying. It was just like the Gryffindor common room. Slytherins were just children after all. It made Hermione feel something approaching guilt, that all this fighting had to surround children who had a hard choice in front of them. Here she was spying on them, when they had done nothing wrong. Well, she wasn't here to spy on these students exactly, but rather a few specific students. She did need information after all.

It was a while before the particular students she was seeking came into the room. She had been standing completely still, taking the time to practice her occlumency and continue the ordering of her mind. All the while she had kept one ear on the common room, just in case conversations of interest had come up. Just because she wasn't here to spy on these students, didn't mean that they had no information that she could use.

"I have something for you Nott," Malfoy said, inclining his head towards the boys' dormitories and effectively grabbing Hermione's attention. It seemed he had left Pansy behind somewhere in the halls and found Nott instead.

She intended to trail Malfoy and Nott closely in these rooms. They were her best bet for the information she was seeking. The conversation she was overhearing was promising. She'd been waiting for something just like this for the weeks she'd been hovering invisible in the common room. She'd observed a lot of behaviour from Malfoy, but nothing particularly helpful – though it had been strange seeing the less defensive side of Malfoy's personality. She was more convinced than ever that he wasn't ready for the choices being forced upon him, he still had his innocence somehow. Still, he was a right git and wasn't completely blame-free.

The boys had turned to walk up into the dormitories and Hermione trailed Nott, who was following Malfoy, closely. She had never been so glad that the Hogwarts wards didn't keep girls out of boys' wards in the same way that it kept the boys from reaching the girls. Upon entry to the dorms, Hermione wasn't surprised to see that the dormitories here were just as extravagant as in Gryffindor, if not more elegant. She had been here before. Had been through the trunks that ley open at the end of the beds. When she stepped back to look at her actions, Hermione was distressed by the unscrupulous she was displaying of late, but she was only doing what she had to do.

Malfoy crossed the room to his bed and opened his bedside drawers. "This was owled direct to the dormitories this evening," Malfoy informed Nott. "Your father is already coming, I believe."

"The usual?" Nott asked, taking the sheet of parchment from Malfoy's outstretched hand.

Hermione moved in behind Nott and glanced towards the parchment as Malfoy confirmed, "The usual. Bring whoever you like. I am informed that it is likely to be more… festive… this year. More _entertainment_ afterwards."

Nott swallowed, "I see." His voice was carefully neutral, but Hermione could guess exactly what entertainment entailed. In fact, she believed she'd seen the death eaters' version of 'festive' in her childhood home the past summer.

Scowling and unseen, Hermione committed the contents of the parchment to memory. She had discovered early in life that she possessed unparalleled ability to retain visual and verbal information thanks to her photographic memory.

 **You are hereby cordially invited to the**

 **Annual Malfoy Ball**

 _ **Theodore Nott**_

 _October 14_ _th_ _, 7 Pm_

Please adhere to only the finest dress code

 _ **You are welcome to join the Malfoy's for a superior evening of fine food, dancing and superior socialisation.**_

 _In support of our great cause and Lord_

 _L & N Malfoy_

Hermione rolled her eyes. Yes, this was just the information she needed, and she had just over a week to prepare herself and then finally put her plan into action. She would either succeed or fail. She jutted her chin out in determination, she could not and would not fail. She would not let her parents die for nothing. She was prepared, as prepared as she could possibly get. All that was left now, was to play her cards right and following that, nothing would be able to stop her.

…

Hermione removed her disillusionment charms when she reached the second floor. It was still just before curfew and she was still free to walk these halls. It wasn't unusual for her to be wandering at this time of night, one hand trailing along the stone of the castle. She enjoyed the impression of sentience that projected from these walls. It was easily ignored if you weren't looking for it, but if you listened then you could feel the castle reacting to it's occupants. The walls didn't talk, nothing so obvious as that, but if you focused hard you could _feel._ For example, Hermione could just _feel_ the castle laughing at the students on the third floor, who were chasing each other down the halls. She could feel the protective amusement of the castle, almost maternal. _They are mine_ , you could almost hear it – except that you couldn't. You only knew.

Her thoughts were elsewhere as she wandered the halls. She was carefully running memories through her own mind, carefully examining them for any discrepancies and inconstancies. It would not do for her plan to fall apart because she had missed one tiny detail. Everything had to be perfect, or she would fail, and it would all be for nothing.

She was nervous, but as reasonably confident as she could be under the circumstances. She had spent many hours preparing every part of her being for this. She sighed and leaned against the wall for a moment, staring up at the third floor as she waited for the staircase. The stone was warm against her back, when it should have been cold. She sucked in a breath as she drew support from Hogwarts itself. Soon there would be no going back, and she knew that she would soon need to prepare for the instance where she didn't come out of her first attempts to enact her plan alive.

As submersed in her own thoughts as she was, she still wasn't caught unaware when the staircase finally aligned with her floor. After all, she had been training herself to be aware. Looking up the staircase, Hermione realised that she was no longer alone. Professor Snape was descending the staircase towards her with a scowl on his face. Of course, she thought, he does live in the dungeons.

"Miss Granger, what a surprise to find you this low in the castle," Snape sneered. "Pray tell, what are you doing?"

"Patrolling sir," Hermione answered confidently. "I do believe there are students that congregate below the fifth floor." It was a risk to tease the professor like this, but not much scared Hermione Granger anymore.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "10 points from Gryffindor for cheek, Miss Granger," he said. "I am quite able to surmise the obvious."

"With all due respect sir," Hermione began, a small smile spreading across her face. "I don't believe you would have asked had you known." This was surely a bad idea. This was so far from her usual persona when it came to teachers that Professor Snape was likely to become suspicious. Stuff it, she thought. It's only Professor Snape. What's he going to do?

"A further ten points from Gryffindor Miss Granger," Snape snarled. "It would fare you well to remember your position as a student within these walls."

Hermione shrugged slightly but replied with a response more like the Hermione he knew. "Yes sir. I'll be sure to."

With that, Hermione brushed past him and headed up the staircase, leaving behind a very confused Snape, who was staring after her with a troubled expression on his face.

What on earth was up with this girl?

…

Again, Thank you to those who review! I reply to every review (unless it's a guest review because I unfortunately can't!) and sometimes you'll even get a hint or two about what's coming next! What do you think about Hermione's magic? Is it too fantastical, or do you enjoy a powerful Hermione as much as I do?

Thank you all!


End file.
